A Shinobi's Campfire Tale to Remember
by Jofus Games
Summary: A tale of what was and what could have been. ANBU accost a missing nin, but stay their blades to listen in.


The man stoked the fire with a short, obsidian staff, stirring the embers akin to a hive of bees disturbed from their rest and dispersing amongst the evening sky.

"ANBU huh" he muttered, slumping back down onto his makeshift log seat.

"You must be pretty good, pretty quick too to catch up to me so quickly...Fire country's capital is no mean distance from here, boys".

There was no answer to his questioning tone of voice, but the lingering shadows that swayed with the flickering of the fire were answer enough.

"Heh, the silent moody types, are ya?" scorned the man. "Weeeel...I can work with that. May not seem it, but it's been a long day for me too."

A grin stretched across his visage, almost hidden by the shadows. "But dayum, it sure as hell was productive!"

"And that's got me in a little mood here, what's the word...lackadaisical or something."

"The fire is a roarin, and the night sky is clear. It's a crisp night, but not too cool that ya don't feel a shiver go down yer spine every now and then."

"Perfect night for one, last story, eh boys?"

From the east came the slight whirling sound associated with multiple shuriken being hurled at once. The man fell backwards off his log seat as the projectiles sped overhead, biting into the trees surrounding the clearing. A slight twitch of the eyebrows gave away the man's irritation.

"Dammit, are ya gonna let a man tell you one last story, before the end or not?"

"Think of it...think of it as a last request." He sneered.

Brushing off his robes, the man sat back down, as if the attack had not occurred. The shadows continued to linger in the trees, but there was a hesitance, a confusion that had not been present earlier.

Taking the lack of any follow up attacks as an indication to continue, the man stretched his arms out, warming his palms from the heat of the blaze in front of him, and began to weave a story.

* * *

"In times ages past, there were many gods. Gods of creation, animals, and spirits, even the very elements themselves. How they saw humans, well, we'll never know. But they were gods, and we were not, so it's kinda unlikely that we saw eye to eye. Anyways, one day, in their infinite wisdom, the gods decided that they would each afford mankind a champion, an avatar, a representation of their existence, status and power, in order to help humanity."

The man spat into the fire, scowling furiously.

"These avatars, upon being imbued with a fraction of their gods' powers became something_ more_ than mortal, yet at the same time, not divine either. For all their favour, they were not gods themselves. They helped humanity, elevating it to new heights, introduced new ideas and theories, and gained worship from the humans in return."

Hissing slightly, the man withdrew his hands from the heat of the fire. Fumbling into his robes, he withdrew a small, leather drinking pouch. He did not immediately open it, but fingered the opening incessantly.

"The avatars for their part, grew jealous. Jealous not of the gods, but of each other, all claiming that their god was the most powerful, the most worthy of worship. Slowly but surely, they changed from saints to zealots, and to the dismay of the gods, began a conflict that would last several centuries."

At that, the man paused, grinning. "All except one."

"This avatar cared nothing for worship, nor did he care much for his patron god either. No, he cared only for power, and in the secession of avatars, saw his opportunity to steal power from the gods themselves."

The man unplugged his pouch, and took a good slug of its contents, re-sealing it in a smooth motion. He swallowed the mouthful slowly, savoring the taste.

"It took the avatar some time, a good century or two. But in the end he succeeded, and at the end of the bloody conflict of avatars, stood alone, his compatriots having died either by his hand, or each others'. Naturally, you can imagine the gods didn't take this well. A man, a human, no matter if he had been an avatar of a god, no matter if it had only been a fraction of their combined might, had stolen their power."

"In their rage, the gods sought him out, but he had already fled, vowing that one day the power of a god would truly be his."

"For years, the gods planned, and searched the earth for a human, one with the will and drive to overcome impossible odds, one that could kill this fallen avatar and return their stolen powers to them."

Withdrawing the drinking pouch back into his robes, the man quietly spoke "And eventually, they found such a being."

"A child was found. His parents' long dead, his village saw his very existence as an affront to their daily lives and sought to communicate this fact to him. Beaten, broken every day, as the village leader led him on with shattered promises of false hope and spoke white lies of loyalty and friendship. But he persevered nonetheless and grew strong. He became stronger than his tormentors, stronger than his peers, and eventually, stronger than his village."

"His name became known throughout the lands, respected, and eventually feared. It was then, upon making his way back to his village after another successful mission, that the gods ascended him to their plane of existence."

"They spoke of their betrayer, the false avatar. That he alone was their hope in finding and defeating him, and returning their power to them. That they had watched him throughout his entire life, as he struggled and succeeded, that he had the drive and the will to surpass the false avatar. Should he agree to aid them in this task, all the gods would imbue him with their power, making him the true avatar of the gods."

"At this point, the child, who was now a man, stood straight. Letting out a small chuckle, he nodded his head downwards slightly."

Lightly stretching his arms vertically, the man groaned out loud whilst continuing his story.

"And the gods...took that as his accordance with their plans, and each imbued him with a fraction of their might, as they had done to all the other avatars. Displacing him from their realm, they watched to his future progress with glee."

"Despite the power that the gods had granted him, it took the man a long time to track down the false avatar, for he had hidden himself well. Several decades would pass before the man finally found him."

At this point, the man's visage soured as he stared into the fire. "For all the power that the false avatar had gathered, it amounted to little in the end. From a concealed position, the man struck, and in his first attack, brought the false avatar to his knees."

"The gods, watching from their heaven above earth, were ecstatic. Their long search for a true avatar had paid off."

"But then, all watched in surprise and shock, as the man dropped to his knees in front of the false avatar, bringing him to level with the enemy he had hunted for all these years, and sheathed his sword."

"The man stated that it was the will of the gods that he find and defeat him today, that they saw him as a false avatar, an abomination, and unworthy of the powers he had stolen."

The man's expression became sombre, and when he gazed into the fire, his mind was obviously elsewhere. "Before the avatar could speak in his defence, the man continued 'But these same gods, watched over me every day of my life. Every. Single. Day. Where I was beaten, broken, raped, abused, lied to, and worst of all, given false hope. Day in, and day out I suffered, while they, with their power, watched and did nothing because I was not worth anything to them unless I persevered. They were never there for me, and were content to watch me suffer in the hope that I would be worthy enough to do what they could not.'

"With a furious expression on his face, the man unsheathed his sword and drove it into the ground in-between himself and the false avatar. 'Kill me! Take the powers that the gods granted me and ascend! Become more than mortal! Become divine! But promise me, promise me that you will grant them the same suffering that was granted to me! Give them Death! Give them Destruction!"

The man's expression became pious, and he gazed to the heavens as he continued.

"The gods watching grew frantic with rage and fear, and sought to intervene. But far too quickly, the false avatar slew the man, stole the power that the gods had granted and ascended to godhood."

Slowly, the man stood up, his black hood sliding back, revealing gray hair. The short staff in one hand, he bent over slightly, picking up a strange three bladed scythe, and rested it on his back.

"And that, little ninjas, ANBU, and whoever else is out there, is the story of how Jashin came to be", Said the now grinning Hidan.

In his left hand, the small staff became a spike, and in his right, he rested his red and black scythe.

"And now that I've completed my little gospel for this month" he grinned and began to move forward, "it's time for me to get back to doing my god's good work".


End file.
